The Sound of Cockatrices
by Nilmiel
Summary: It’s funny that it should be sunny, he thought. Usually at this point in the story, it’s cloudy and stormy as everyone laments the tragic death of the lost heroes. But I’ll take sun if I can get it. Balthier/Fran Mild Vaan/Penelo


_Disclaimer: FFXII does not belong to me. Whoot._

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The Sound of Cockatrices

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And then there was darkness.

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The Bahamut ran aground about five miles outside of the royal city of Rabanastre, and with it came such an enormous sound of explosion, a few people were sure the paling had failed and doom was imminent. The Lord of the Skies plowed into the ground so fiercely that about a third of it was lodged into the lake it had landed in and it remained nearly upright, like some sort of fearsome statue.

The _Strahl _made its way back to the Aerodrome in a bittersweet manner. Noah was gone- and Balthier and Fran were sure to have been lost. Vaan's fingers were clenched around the controls so hard his knuckles were white, his eyes fixed on the sky in front of him. All he could think about was landing and somehow finding enough gil to have the Strahl completely fixed. He poured over everything that could be done to make her better in his mind, from replacing older stystones to giving her a fresh coat of paint.

Penelo stared at the controls in a numb manner, the last words the Viera had spoken to her playing over and over again in her mind. She couldn't accept the fact that she would probably never see her again. She'd learned so much- all of her magicks she had picked up from her. The woman she admired most in the world was gone- like her mother.

Larsa sat at Noah's bedside. He couldn't bring himself to move just yet. Gabranth had been loyal to his last moments. He felt he needed to do the same. He couldn't just walk out onto the bridge of the now master-less ship to stand with the others. Not yet.

Ashe was crying. She hadn't cried in so long, it seemed. Not since Rasler died. Half of her was furious—How dare a lowly sky pirate assume he could do what he pleased? How dare he not consult her? How dare he just leave them? Leave her? She could taste the salt and feel it drying on her cheeks. She didn't move. She stood erect, praying the emotion would pass her over. Two warm hands wrapped around her shoulder, and she broke. She turned and buried her face in Basch's broad chest and sobbed like she hadn't since she was a child.

Basch wrapped his arms around his Lady, being the best of a quiet comfort he could. He still was bound to her, still had to defend and protect her. Surely it was in his duty to give her whatever comfort he could. The feel of her pressed against him calmed his heart as well- the pain of losing his brother again slowly began to heal.

Vaan expertly piloted the airship into the hangar and powered her down. The five remaining on the ship didn't move at first. No one wanted to get off and face the rest of the people of Ivalice. They needed to stay there for a minute in their little time castle, and take some sort of comfort in one another's presence. They had gone through so much together already, and this was the last thing.

After what seemed to be eons, Vaan stood. He placed his hand on Penelo's arm, and pulled her gently after him. Ashe solemnly followed, and as they passed Larsa, he stood to follow them. Basch bowed his head and took up the end of the line.

The inside of the Aerodrome had been cleared for the most part as people had lined the streets outside to watch the war overhead. As the group stepped outside, heads everywhere turned to look at them, and there was an unsettling silence, unbroken except by the few ships that still lingered overhead.

The five of them stood side by side, until Vaan took a few tentative steps forward. He looked at the people before him, and then those behind. Raising his arm, he motioned to the Princess, and took an enormous breath. "Princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca!" He roared.

More than half the crowd gasped loudly, and those up front squinted and began to exclaim to their neighbors. "It _is_ she! It _is_ she! Our princess, the Princess Ashe!" The murmurs soon mounted to tumultuous applause and shouts of praise.

Ashe looked at Vaan, a mixture of appreciation and dismay written on her face. Basch took the opportunity to ease her forward, and she complied.

"My friends," She began, and almost immediately the crowd gathered in the West Gate fell silent. "My friends," She said again, and a voice so full of mixed emotion that it moved everyone who stood there. "We have lost so much, and paid such a high price… but we are free. Dalmasca is free."

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And then there was light.

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The sun caked his eyelids.

It's funny that it should be sunny, he thought. Usually at this point in the story, it's cloudy and stormy as everyone laments the tragic death of the lost heroes. But I'll take sun if I can get it.

His entire self was sore. His arms felt as if they were being pressed down by some enormous weight, and his head felt as if he had and entire airship land on it. His leg hurt so badly that it felt like a Wild Saurian had it crushed between two enormous fangs and was chewing on the tendons and snapping ligaments. He could barely manage to raise and lower his chest, and he didn't dare open his eyelids for fear he would turn to ash. Slowly and ever so tentatively he moved the very tips of his fingers. He felt them brush against flaming steel and stopped when the ache became too much. Gods, he was tired. The metal against his back was warm as the sun on his face and the heaviness on his entire body begged him to slip back into unconsciousness. He gladly obliged.

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When he woke once again, the light on his face was gone. The cool breeze of the sleeping desert contrasted with the still steaming metal of the enormous air fortress. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was blinded by starlight. His cracked lips slid open and he let out a soft moan. His lungs ached, but did not catch fire the way he had expected them to. He didn't even try to move any drastic distance, he was still so tired. It was all he could stand to move his head back and forth, testing the bones there. Seeing that nothing vital was broken, he smiled and leaned his head back down. "I told you," He muttered to no one in particular. "I never die."

The words burned his throat, so he raised his hand (noting to his pleasure that colorful rings still adorned it), and with what little strength he had left, cast a small water spell. The stuff splashed on his face, but some found its mark and trickled down his throat, cooling his dried mouth and soothing the burning on his lips. He rested again.

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His eyes opened again to starlight, but whether it had been a day or a few hours, he couldn't tell.

He felt far more rested now, but the pain was still extreme. But he knew he was stronger. He could feel magicks flowing through him. Taking deeper breath and gathering concentration, he began to weave a simple Cure spell. As soon as the magick dispersed from his finger tips, the white glimmering light pressed into his chest and traveled through his entire system. He immediately felt lighter, as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His breathing became easier and the pain dulled considerably. He felt a few broken ribs settle back into place and the sharp pain in his leg dulled to a faint throb. Taking a deep breath, he pulled himself into a sitting position.

He was sitting near the edge of a thick beam that protruded from the insides of the Bahamut. He vaguely remembered making his way with Fran back to platform outside the ship where they had fought the Undying before the ship made impact. He'd been knocked off balance, what with his weight and Fran's to manage, and slipped off. He must have been caught on one of the beams, else he wouldn't be alive. Despite the fact that about two-hundred feet of the aircraft had probably been buried in the sand, he was still a good hundred feet from the ground. The air below his was taken over by metal platforms and wires that twisted all over. Debris was everywhere.

He squinted and gazed at the horizon, trying to see if he could recognize the area of the Estersand in which he had found himself. Unfortunately night and the giant obstructing airship he found himself sitting on had transformed the desert. He had no idea where he was, and whichever way he looked, he couldn't make out the glow of Rabanastre.

Even with the Cure magick, he found himself still growing weary from the effort of sitting up. There were blood stains on the metal beam around him, and judging by the broken ribs that he'd just mended and what he thought might be a broken leg, he'd fallen from quite a height. His head was beginning to spin, so gently he eased himself down onto his back and placed his hands beneath his head as a pillow, ignoring the unpleasant, warm stickiness he found there.

He closed his eyes, but did not sleep this time. Instead, he focused on resting and charging his body with the light Mist around him. It took effort with his headache, but eventually, he managed enough to cast another meager healing spell. Again, the world refocused. He knew his bruises now had shrunk and his scars and cuts were fading. Now, he just needed a bit more rest.

As he closed his eyes, he heard a voice. And his mind must have been playing tricks on him because the voice said, "You've done so well, Ffamran."

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Balthier awoke to the sound of cockatrices.

He now felt well enough to stand, and did so, carefully clinging to a jagged piece of metal that was at shoulder level. He looked down towards the base of the maufacted monster upon which he found himself and saw a group of the rotund birds already beginning to explore its crevices. He noted that the ship had landed in the middle of a lake, which probably explained why he couldn't recognize where in the Estersand he was. He probably wasn't even in the Estersand.

So, why were there cockatrices gathered around the base of the airship? He'd have to investigate later. He mentally wished that he'd thought to nab Vaan's Feather of the Flock.

Tentatively, he edged along the beam to see if he could find a way down. In his condition, he wasn't sure he could manage an amazing display of acrobatics. There appeared to be a series of steps that had been only partially destroyed upon impact, and it looked like he would be able to make it about halfway down my those alone, if he was careful and held onto something. Balthier wondered vaguely if any of the machinery in the Bahamut was still working. If there was, he could probably make his way to the center and take the lift the rest of the way down. If that were the case, it would probably make the most sense to scavenge any nearby platforms for some machinery or tools that could come in handy. The first thing he did was reach into his pockets to see if he had managed to hold onto any of the tools he'd brought over from the _Strahl_. He pricked his finger on something sharp, and immediately recoiled. Delving back in, he pulled out a potion, the bottle cracked, and bubbly liquid smeared on his fingers. He threw back his head and groaned in annoyance. But his moment wallowing in self pity didn't last long. In looking up, he'd discovered something rather important.

Fran was caught between two metal beams and some wire mesh about two stories above him.

Balthier scowled in disbelief. He must not have seen her earlier because either she had not been there, or because he was so intoxicated by his own pain and injuries. Now, he wasn't just faced with the problem of getting down. He had to find a way up.

"Fran!" He called her name a few times, but to no avail. Balthier had guessed she would be unconscious. The Mist that Vayne and that Venat had so kindly excreted had taken its toll on her prior to the impact, and so it would make sense that she was in worse off condition than he was now. He felt a sudden pang of worry. He had no potions, and his magick was all but depleted. His only hope would be that he could muster enough to get her back onto her feet so that the two of them could make it safely out of the desert.

He continued on his way towards the center of the aircraft. With luck, he'd be able to find at least an only partially destroyed staircase that could lead him up to Fran's level, and then somehow manage to find her.

There were still sparks of energy flaring in the Bahamut's entrails. Cords that had been torn spewed forth from cavities in the wall and created small electrical sparks. The light began to diminish as Balthier made his way carefully deeper inside. As he walked, the paths widened and platforms became more stable as they attached to the core of the ship.

The lift that the group had taken up to see Vayne was snapped clean in two, so that ruled that option out. Balthier carefully made his way along the catwalks to see if there were any staircases that lead up to where Fran was.

About half way around the ship, he saw one. It was in surprisingly good shape- only a few twisted pieces of scrap metal potentially barred his way to the top, but Balthier imagined he could skirt around them with ease.

He began his climb, pausing to rest every now and then when his fatigue and soreness caught up with him. He kept his mind focused on the direction he would have to take to get back to where his partner was, and when he made it to what he imagined was her level, he moved as quickly as he could around the debris towards the outer reaches of the ship.

He stepped out into the fresh air again and sighed with relief as he saw that he had taken the steps only slightly too far; Fran was about five feet below the platform he was standing on.

Grinning, he sat down on the edge and swung his feet over, landing not so gracefully on the wire mesh she was caught in. "Well, well, Fran, quite a mess you've gotten yourself into this time, isn't it?"

He knelt down beside her. Her headdress had snapped and her tangled white hair was matted with blood. It looked like her ankle had snapped as one of her shoes had caught the mesh at an awkward angle. Her other shoe was no where to be found. Her bow was snapped in half beneath her. She looked badly bruised, and he was sure she'd have cuts all over her back where the wire had cut into her. One of her magnificent ears had been torn and blood stained the soft fur that lined it. Any movement of her chest wasn't visible.

Balthier frowned. He tentatively reached out and touched the side of her neck to check for a pulse and recoiled immediately. Her skin was unbelievably cold, and as far as he could tell, her heart wasn't beating.

"Oh, Fran," He said, grimacing. Unbelievable grief threatened to overtake him. Tears stung at his eyes and threatened to fall. "Fran," He repeated as if trying to call her out of trance. He had never considered that she could die. She was his partner, she was a Viera- she was too strong to die like this.

Trembling, he reached out and tilted her head upwards as he had in the Pharos when she had collapsed. Her headdress fell completely off and slipped down between the cracks into the lake below them. "Gods, Fran, don't do this to me," He said, his voice breaking. Balthier reached into his pocket again, smearing his fingers in whatever remains of the potion stuck to the inside. Carefully, he rubbed his fingers over her lips, hoping against hope that somehow she would be okay, somehow she would wake up.

She didn't.

He gathered the rest of her into his arms, carefully untangling her from where the mesh clung to her skin and armor. He reached as far as he could deep inside himself trying desperately to thread the Mist into a cure spell. Anything. But he couldn't. The magick eluded him. Try as he might, he couldn't spin or manipulate the Mist into anything he wanted. I shouldn't have used the last bit on myself, he told himself. I could have made it here without curing myself. Or without water. I should have waited. He was kidding himself. He couldn't have made it here if he hadn't done any of those things.

He pressed his cheek against her cold forehead. The light breeze brushed her lifeless hair against his skin. There was absolutely no sign of a pulse. "Please," He begged no one in particular. "Viera aren't supposed to die. This isn't… she can't."

Balthier moved his forehead so that his was pressed against hers. "Do you remember when we met?" He said in a soft voice that was utterly broken. "I was stupid, like Vaan. I asked how old you were, and if it was true that Viera live forever. You told me," He said, scowling. "You told me, 'not forever, but longer than any Hume might'. I believe those were your exact words." He grimaced. "So, tell me," He began again, choking on the tears that he wouldn't let fall. "Why am I still here, and you aren't? I'm only a Hume, Fran. I can't do this, I can't…" He broke off. Her skin was still so cold against his own. He blinked back tears and felt her skin against his eyelash. Slowly, he leaned down further and pressed his dry lips to hers in a single, soft kiss, only for a moment. She was so cold.

And just barely, so softly he might have thought the world was playing tricks on him, he heard a soft sputtering noise. Startled, he leaned his head back down near her mouth so that her lips barely brushed his ear. There was a small _whoosh_ of breath. Barely there, but there nonetheless.

Relief washed over him like a tide. It was as if someone had cast the world's strongest Curaja spell on him. His grief and sorrow drained like water through a sieve. He found it was easy to stand, and the world's weight had snapped clean in two off of his back. It was surprisingly easy to be sarcastic again. "Fran, as soon as you wake up, I am going to make sure you never live that down. I swear, I won't let you pilot the _Strahl_ for at least the next two thousand years. That was probably the worst thing you've ever done to me. And that's including the Flan incident."

He was now, however, faced with a huge problem. He was sure he could make it back down to where he came from, but there was no way he could get to the base of the Bahamut and across the lake. Not when he had to carry her. But he didn't have any other choice.

Grunting under the weigh on his sore arms, Balthier stood, and carefully arranged Fran on the platform he had jumped down from earlier. He swung himself up after her and lifter her up once again. "I'm sorry, Fran," He said. "But I'm afraid I'll have to carry you in a less conventional manner." After saying so, he slung her over his back into a crude piggy-back style with her arms draped over his shoulder and one of his hands clasping her feet together. "I need at least one of my arms free if I'm to attempt this," He said as an explanation. "And this other shoe of yours will have to go, I'm afraid. It makes this far too awkward. I'd rather not have you stabbing me with that heel. Consider this part of your debt paid."

Balthier made his way once again down the staircase to the core of the Bahamut, but as he stepped onto the catwalk, his eyes were met with a strange sight. A cockatrice was wondering aimlessly about, pecking absentmindedly at some of the still sputtering wires.

"Hey," Balthier exclaimed, taking a step towards the bird and startling it. It snapped its miniscule head in his direction, and quickly made off towards the opposite end of the catwalk. He ran after it, cursing himself. He used his free hand to dig into his other pocket, hoping that somehow he had unconsciously taken that ridiculous feather from Vaan. All his fingers closed around were two small stones- a reflectga mote and a blizzard mote. Not much help in dealing with the bird.

The cockatrice did prove to be helpful, however. It had found the way down.

One of Bahamut's glossair rings had snapped, creating an immaculate ramp all the way down to the surface of the water. Balthier let out an excited exclamation, and moved as quickly as he could along the smooth surface, giving chase to the ridiculously fat bird.

As soon as it reached the water, the bird jumped, using its tiny wings as propellers, the ten feet across the now murky water to the main part of the Bahamut where its brethren were still clucking excitedly and exploring the new nooks and crannies they had discovered.

"Well, look at that, Fran," Balthier said, spirits elated quite a bit. "It appears you were quite wrong; I am the leading man after all." He stopped and thought for a moment. "Unless of course by 'supporting role' you meant supporting you all the way throughout that curse piece of metal."

He paused to take in the surroundings. They were about two hundred feet from the shore of the lake, far more than he would be able to swim, especially with an unconscious and severely injured Viera on his back. He looked at the cockatrices. How had they gotten over? They hadn't flown; they were far to fat for such a feat and their wings were too small. Unless something drastic had happened to these birds, they hadn't swum over either.

He scanned the surface of the water for a path of some sort, but didn't see any. His eyes did, however, come across the figure of a small someone standing on the shore and waving its arms frantically.

"Hello over there!" Balthier bellowed as loudly as he could. The figure stopped bouncing and scanned the surface of the water for the source of the voice. Finally, the someone's eyes found them on the Bahamut and a voice let out a happy cry. "There are survivors! Are you okay?" The voice was that of a young boy.

"I am," Balthier hollered back. "My companion, however, needs attention. Do you have a way of getting over?"

"No, or I woulda come over there to get the cockatrices! Tetra's beside herself, you know- it's the second time in so long they've run away. They got scared by the noise of the crash, see, so scared they somehow managed to swim over there! And now they won't come back!"

Balthier groaned. Swimming cockatrices indeed. That ruled out his way back to shore.

"Can you fetch anyone?" He yelled to the boy.

"No, I promised Tetra I'd look out for the cockatrices! I can't go back without them or else she'd kill me!"

If he could, he would have thrown his arms into the air. As it was, he just yelled at the boy. "Look, you little wretch, I need to get over there or else my partner might die. I'm willing to switch your life for hers. Go get help!"

The boy looked as if he were about to run, but then stopped. "You're Archadian, aren't you? You've got that accent. That means you're rich, right? That means you'd have a Feather, right?"

Balthier was growing more and more frustrated by the moment. Angrily, he reached into his pockets and pulled out the motes. "All I have are two motes- no, I'm not some rich Archdian pig who can afford to buy whatever he wants! So, no, I don't have your damned Feather. I have a reflectga mote, and a blizzard mote. Do you have any sugg-"

He cut himself off. The reflectga mote was useless, to be sure, but the blizzard mote… Balthier grinned.

"Mister? What were you saying?" The boy yelled.

Balthier ignored him. He dropped the cold, smooth stone into the water.

Instantly, the water froze, creating a floating platform of ice about five feet in diameter. Extremely pleased with himself, he jumped onto the ice, slipping and falling, but it didn't matter. The platform was already drifting towards shore. He arranged Fran on her back- figuring the ice would be good for the swelling and bruising, and slipped into the water.

It was freezing cold, but he didn't notice. He planted to hands firmly on the ice and began kicking, steadily making his way to the sandy banks of the lake. The boy, seeing what he was doing, jumped into the water and swan out to meet them. He swam up beside Balthier and helped him push the block of ice closer to land. The boy grunted with determination and didn't speak to Balthier, just helped as best he could.

As soon as the water was at waist level, Balthier picked Fran up from the block of ice, and finding that she was much colder, tried to rub warmth into her and held her close to his chest, hoping some of his body heat would seep into her despite his soaking clothes.

The boy had run up beside him, gazing worriedly at the injured woman in his arms. "Is… is she…?

"A Viera? Yes. Look while you can, she'll not tolerate it later. Now, boy, where's the nearest settlement?"

"I'm Jinn, not 'boy', mister." He pouted. "And it's Giza Village, that way." He pointed, and ignored the fact that the strange man hadn't answered the question he'd intended.

"Alright, bo—Jinn, take me there. Not sure I can manage this all on my own. I'm not feeling so well myself."

"But the cockatrices--"

"They'll be fine. She won't. If you're so worried about your girl killing you, I'll accompany you if you like and tell her of your valiant rescue. Then you can get a few of your friends and a raft and make it over to your birds."

Jinn swelled up with pride at the mention of a valiant rescue. "Alright, mister, I'll take you there."

Balthier smiled. "Good."

Jinn hurriedly led them along a path in the grass. "So, what are your names then? I can't just introduce you as Archadian Man and Viera."

"Our names? I suppose you gave me yours. I'm Armal, and this is Njra."

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It was a small village, but it had a crystal, which is what Balthier was hoping for. Relief filled him to the brim, and he tenderly reached out and laid a hand on its cool blue surface. Immediately, a feeling of wellness washed over him, warming him to the core and filling him with immense strength. His blood coursed with strong magicks, and he felt capable of moving mountains. Fran felt so much lighter in his arms. Quickly, he took the Viera's hand and pressed it against the stone as well. He could feel the ancient magick pulse through her body as well. He could feel the bones she had broken shift inside of her, the cuts and bruises on her back shrank into nothing, and a bit of warmth returned to her skin. His greatest reward was hearing her draw a deep and shuttering breath into her now healed lungs. But she didn't quite wake up.

He quickly hid his feelings of dismay. A woman from the camp had come to stand beside him. "You're Armal, right? Jinn told me you were caught in the crash. What were you doing on the lake while that monstrosity was in the sky?"

"We were more swept into the whole mess, actually." Balthier said slowly.

The woman nodded. "You're worried about her, aren't you? Well, you shouldn't. The crystal will have fixed everything dreadfully wrong. It doesn't surprise me that she's still asleep after what the two of you have been through. She just needs rest- and you look like you could use some yourself. A bath too, for that matter."

Balthier looked down at himself- he was still covered in blood, oil, and grime, and Fran looked no better. "Yes," he said. "I would greatly appreciate that."

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He was clean and refreshed and laying on a warm bed. Surely, surely, there was nothing better than this. The woman had even given him a tub to wash his clothes. His earrings had all survived the crash as well, for which he was entirely grateful. An earring torn out would have left a rather obnoxious scar.

Fran was lying on the cot beside him, her chest rising and falling steadily. She had been sleeping for a few hours now, and Balthier couldn't say he blamed her in the least. He was willing to spend the whole night in the village if that's what it took to get her back on her feet. She had been dressed in some of the light clothes the Giza inhabitants wore as they were worried that her armor probably wasn't the best for resting in.

Her new look pleased Balthier. It was odd that a woman fully clothed was more appealing than one wearing almost nothing at all, but it was. She appeared much more at rest and peace, more like a woman at home than one on the run and in exile.

He turned so he could lie on his side and look at her. It was still a relief to know that she was fine and that soon the two of them would be able to be on their way to whatever awaited them next. He ran his fingers idly through her now clean hair that wasn't restricted by the headdress or hair ties. He mused briefly over touching her ears, but then decided against it. "I hope, _Njra_," he said half to himself, "That you won't ever put me through this sort of thing again."

The Viera sighed in her sleep and turned her head away from him. Grinning to himself, Balthier closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillow. They'd discuss this further in the morning.

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Balthier awoke to the sound of cockatrices.

Jinn must have found a way to get the birds back across the lake to the village, he mused. He chuckled to himself and rolled over onto his side. He sat up, immediately aware of the fact that Fran was no longer beside him.

He looked wildly around the room, catching his breath when he saw that she stood by the window of the small hut that the Giza inhabitants had given to them for the night. He rolled off of the bed and stood to walk to her side.

"I was wondering when you would wake," Fran said, and he thanked the gods for her voice.

"I've been awake longer than you have," He informed her.

"I was not implying that you have slept longer than I. I would have you tell me all about your heroics at a later time but for now, I wish only for silence." She explained softly. She turned to face him, and he admired her new attire.

"These clothes suit you," He informed her absently. "I would have you wear things like this more often."

"They are not as convenient for pirating."

"How can you tell me those shoes are convenient?" He laughed. "To be completely truthful, I was most glad you lost them. Now I am nearly as tall as you."

She smiled, and Balthier felt something come over him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her tenderly on her cheek near her lips. "You have no idea how worried I was," He murmured against her warm skin.

She closed her eyes against his feather light touch. "I did not mean to upset you so," She said in a small whisper.

"Don't apologize," He growled, his kisses becoming more insistent.

"Very well," She said, turning her head slightly so that her lips met his. He relinquished his hold on her waist and cupped her cheeks in his hands, thumbs tracing beneath her eyes, holding and pulling her close to him. Her lips were still chapped and dry against his, but neither cared or made a comment about it. She pressed one hand against his chest, feeling his heart beat, and pulled her other through his hair and ran it along his jaw.

It ended almost too soon, and Fran moved away to the other side of the room. Balthier smiled. "I should wake up to that more often," He said.

"Perhaps," was all she said. She began to gather her armor from the corner of the room where the woman had set it. She paused, and the turned to him, a question evident on her face. "Why was it that when I woke, the children called me Njra?"

Balthier shrugged his shoulders. "Do you not like it?"

"It is not who I am."

"Ah, I see." He took a few strides forward. "You see, Njra, our friends Balthier and Fran are presumed dead by the royal city of Rabanastre. They are heroes, of course; saved the city, you know. Anyhow, I, Armal, and you, Njra, were making our way north from the land of the Gariff, and we were swept into the tangles of the Bahamut as it landed in the lake outside of Giza."

"I do not see why a pirate should scheme so."

"Well, it has been at best a few days since our mishap. Likely, Vaan has not repaired the Strahl to its full capacity. I'd should think that it will take him at least a year or so."

"I still do not understand your Hume logic."

Balthier sighed. He hated it when she pulled that card on him. "You see, my dear, it is my belief that we should take advantage of this time when no one in all of Ivalice is looking for us. And perhaps you shouldn't wear that armor quite yet, either. It gives away easily who you are."

A smile appeared on Fran's face. "I see," she said. "In that case, Armal, I believe that we had best be on our way before any visitors chose to check the Bahamut for our dear friends' remains."

"I couldn't agree more."

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"Had I any gil, surely I would give it to you, miss. I am more indebted to you than I can possibly say."

The woman blushed, and Fran rolled her eyes. The woman shook her head. "It's really fine," She said. "We're not ones to turn away hospitality to those who need it."

Balthier bowed. "I will find a way to repay you, one day, I swear it." He turned to Fran. "Come, Njra," He motioned to her. "We have a way to go."

She came to walk beside him. "You truly mean to repay them?" She asked.

"I would think so. They were an enormous help, you know."

"You have changed much since our last adventure."

"Is this a good thing?"

"Growth and maturity, yes." She said. "Foolishness I am less sure of."

As they walked, Jinn ran up beside them. "I wanna thank you, Armal," He said, taking long strides to keep up with the sky pirate. "Tetra wasn't angry with me at all. You were a great help. And you gave us the idea of how to get the cockatrices back." He fished into his pocket. "I know it isn't much, but we're kind of supposed to pay back whoever helps us." He quickly handed two potions and a sunstone to Balthier.

"Thank you, Jinn." Balthier said with sincere gratitude. "I appreciate the motion, as well as your help in my endeavor."

"No problem!" The boy said, turing on his heel to run back to Giza.

Fran smiled. "We have a long walk ahead of us. Perhaps you should begin your tale."

Balthier grinned. "Ah, yes. I suppose it will help to pass the time."

-------------------------------------------------------

"Vaan?" Penelo walked into the hangar. The _Strahl_ sat in its center like a magnificent sculpture. Her footsteps echoed around the room as she strolled from one end to another. "Vaan, I know you're in here."

She had been looking for him throughout the city for a few hours now. This is the one place he could be. He hadn't left the city- this she was sure of. The three gates were closed for Princess Ashe's speech. It sort of reminded her of the day when Vayne was first supposed to give his to the people of Rabanastre. Only this time, there was an air of genuine happiness and celebration, not resentment or just plain disgust.

She'd hoped Vaan would go with her. Ashe had cordially invited them to the small gala that would follow, and Penelo didn't really feel like going alone.

"Vaan. Please. You're acting rather childish."

It occurred to her that he must be in the ship, so she made her way to the _Strahl's_ steps. As she walked up, Nono tumbled down the steps, landing with a small thump at their base. He rubbed his head, slightly miffed. Penelo giggled.

"It's not very funny, kupo." He moogle retorted.

"I'm sorry," Penelo apologized. She held out her hand to help him up. "Is Vaan in there?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Nono answered. "It's hard getting work done around here with him being so mopey, kupo. It's kind of a constant reminder that they're not here anymore when he sits around like that. It makes it hard for a moogle to work, kupo." The poor moogle certainly did look distraught, Penelo noticed. She knelt down to his level. "You're doing a great job, Nono. I'm sure Balthier and Fran will be very happy with you when they get back."

"You think so, kupo?" The moogle brightened considerably.

"I know so. Me and Vaan are here to help you out as best we can, too! We'll buy you whatever you need, and if we don't have the gil, we'll get it. And if you want us to help with some of the engine work, we'll do that, too."

"Thank, kupo-po!" Nono said. "It's good to see that you can still have such a cheery attitude. You should go talk to that boy, though. He's not a very happy one, if you know what I mean, kupo."

"Yeah, I know. I'll go check on him."

"Good luck, kupo."

"Thanks, Nono. Oh! Are you going to the gala tonight?" She asked, remembering.

"Of course I am, kupo! I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"Great! I'll see you there!" She exclaimed, and disappeared into the interior of the ship. The corridors seemed so much more open than they had been. The ship itself almost seemed depressed. She walked hurriedly past the pirates' room. She didn't feel like having to think about them being gone.

Penelo wanted to believe with all her heart that they were coming back- she wanted so hard to believe that she'd show up here one day and the two of them would be sitting in the cockpit, just as they always did. She'd be able to talk with Fran again, and see Balthier, too. And Vaan would be so excited…

Part of her was starting to doubt, though. It had been about two weeks since the Bahamut had crashed. Surely they would have heard from the two by now? They wouldn't spend that much time away from the _Strahl_ and their friends, would they? She kept trying to tell herself that they would have a good reason for not contacting them. But the more she protested her disbelief, the more she began to doubt. She would keep up appearances though, for everyone's sake.

Vaan was sitting in Balthier's seat. He kept looking at the controls, flicking through menus, and running scans. He had come here many times since the Bahamut had fallen. Part of him was hoping to walk in and find them there, or maybe he hoped that he would arrive while he was working on the ship, and he could chide them for not giving him enough time to tune the ship up.

"I found you," She said, a sad smile on her face.

Vaan didn't answer. Penelo took the seat beside him. "Come on," She said. "Ashe's speech is gonna start soon. Don't you wanna go with me?" He was still silent. "Come on, Vaan. Ashe wants to see us. Even Nono's going. You've been mopey for too long. Let's go have some fun tonight and relax."

"They're not coming back, are they?"

Penelo looked taken aback. "Of course they are, Vaan."

"No, they're not. The Bahamut landed near Giza. It doesn't take that long to get back to the city! Besides, the city patrol has been up to the Bahamut and been all through it. There's nothing for it! They weren't there. They're not coming back. They're dead, Penelo. Just like Reks."

Penelo scowled at him. "You—you listen to me, Vaan. Since when have you been such a pessimistic baby? Look, we have no proof that they're gone."

"Stop it."

"If they were dead, we would know. You know why? Because the city would have found them. They didn't. They made it off the Bahamut."

"Just be quiet."

"No! You need to get up off your butt. It's only been two weeks. Give them more time, Vaan. Have either of them ever let you down before?"

"Penelo…"

"They got you away from the guards, they got you out of prison, Balthier brought you back to me… I don't see any reason why they would fail now." She humphed and turned on her heels. Her little speech had reassured her, her doubts cast aside. "_I_ am going to the gala to be with Ashe. If you wanna sit on your butt all day and refuse to have any fun, you go on ahead." She stormed down the steps.

"Penelo, wait!"

She didn't turn. She had made it all the way to the hangar before the pounding footsteps caught up with her. Vaan reached out and grabbed her hand. "I'll come too," he said, panting.

Penelo smiled. "We're all in this together. They'll be back, you'll see. Besides, now that I think about it, wouldn't they be happier if everyone thought they were dead? I mean, how much freer can you get?"

Vaan grinned. "Yeah, that's true. Although, Balthier can't be much of a 'leading man' if everyone think's he dead, can he?"

"Nope," Penelo agreed. "I guess you'll just have to take over for him."


End file.
